


The Ripper

by BeefyNoodle



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood and Gore, Borderline cannibalism, By that I mean this story is based on a theory about Jack, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, Insanity, It Gets Worse, Its Jack the Ripper so it’s obvious, Let’s just see how this turns out, as well as more characters, more tags may be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:53:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28538388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeefyNoodle/pseuds/BeefyNoodle
Summary: It was only meant to be a quick job, nothing more. He didn't mean for it to go out of hand. But he just couldn't help himself, could he?(I was going to post this on Wattpad but decided otherwise)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Mary Ann Nichols

**Author's Note:**

> In which a problem is solved and a bigger one is formed.

-??? POV-

This was ok.

It had to be.

The queen ordered this.

So it HAD to be ok, right?

I ponder as I sat in a alleyway near Whitechapel.

I am not alone, oh no.

Just in front of me lies a woman. Her face expressing a frozen scream. Her hand occasionally twitching as a red puddle grew beneath her.

Did I mention she was dead?

Her clothes were mere tatters, hanging on to her thin frame by threads. This has only served a single purpose, to make my sin ever so easier to complete.

She lay there with her front wide open, to reveal her heart to the world, literally.

But there was nothing savage about my work, oh no. This was done with precision and propose.

I did it because of the queen and her words are final.

The reason she requested such a feat is because of the prince.

The prince was not in danger, not at all.

It was because of the bloodline.

The prince went down to Whitechapel to mingle with the lowlifes that prowled the area, whores looking for people with money whether is was for their own survival or for family. Either way, I don't care.

He was an easy target, a man that had all the money a whore could ever want. So of course he gave in to their desperate subduction. However, I am still baffled by the fact that he made it back to the palace alive.

When the queen caught wind of this, she ordered me to find her. To find Mary Ann Nichols.

It wasn't too hard to track her down when one wears an expensive looking suit.

Once I grabbed her attention I swiftly dragged her to the nearest alleyway, her intoxicated mind made sure of that.

When I pulled out the perfectly sharpened blade from my coat however, she seemed to become sober in a flash.

She tried to run, oh and how she tried to get away. But she didn't. I plunged the blade into her throat, silencing her screams and halting her kicking legs.

With her still, I ripped off her dress to reveal the pale skin underneath. You would never think such porcelain skin has been touched by hundreds of hungry, grimy hands.

I inserted the sharp object from the neck to the abdomen, revealing organs that were not meant to be greeted to the outside world. But I had to make sure she was dead.

And that is where I am now.

So why am I still here as I continue to question himself.

Could it be the guilt? The horror of my actions?

No.

The way my body twitches with adrenaline...

I feel something I haven't felt for many, many years...

Powerful.

I try to deny it, to overshadow it with disgust. How could I feel so powerful about killing one of my own citizens? A whore no less.

But I just feel too great.

I inch closer to the body, the metallic smell of blood becoming stronger as I approach.

I grab the bloodstained blade that lay beside her and looked at it intently. My eyes boring into the red substance.

As my mind went blank I felt my mouth twitch upwards. As my tongue left my mouth I felt something beneath it. Something warm. Something metallic.

At first nothing happened. No feeling whatsoever.

Until I feel my lips pull upwards which was soon followed by a childish giggle. Bubbling from the back of my throat as it seemed to bounce from the walls of the alley like a game of tennis.

In sudden clarity, I clamped my bloodied hands over my mouth, to stop such a noise to escape. I just couldn't help myself.

I pull down my hands from my face and stare down at the puddle beneath me.

Wild green eyes stared back as blood which was not my own dripped down from my face.

I shake myself into reality and quickly arise from my sloughed position while continuing to stare at the deceased body.

With one last glance, I hurry from the crime scene. Disappear into the smog which coated London's streets.


	2. Reminiscing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which he reflects upon his actions.

-Nobody’s POV-

As the sun begun to rise. Covering London in a golden cloak. Arthur opened his eyes, revealing two pairs of dull, fatigued orbs.

He laid there for a while, thinking back on last nights events. How his blade sunk into her skin with such ease, releasing the crimson fluid from her body. He unconditionally smiled at this.

As he lay there for what seemed to be hours, he finally arose from his bed, clad in a simple white dress shirt. His legs swung to the side of the bed, bare feet landing on a hardwood floor.

He stepped through his bedroom and began to make his way to the kitchen. Ready for the day after a cup of tea.

———————————————————————————

News about the gruesome murder spread around like wildfire in the streets of London. However, few were worried as it was not an uncommon occurrence for someone to be found dead in a alleyway, especially prostitutes. But the brutal nature of the murder made some people twitch with unease.

Wearing a simple black suit, Arthur made his way towards Buckingham, his forest green eyes bore into its gates from afar.

As he got closer he was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Step back from the queen's guard!" One of the guards near to yelled at Arthur's face, warning him to back off as he stood too close to the closed gate.

"I'm terribly sorry sir, but I must inform you that her majesty requires my presence to at once, if you may" Arthur explained in a calm manner as he handed the guard a slip of yellowing paper.

Sky blue eyes inspected the paper, desperate to see any signs of forgery. As the guard handed the slip back to Arthur, he raised his gun and placed it to his shoulder. "This way" he would say, it was more an order than anything. The guard began to march towards the now open gate, Arthur quickly in toe.

———————————————————————————

As Arthur walked though the palace, two more guards had joined him at both sides, insuring that any threat be may pose would be prevented.

"Dear chaps, do tell me that our queen is here" Arthur asked, his voiced calm.

They did not reply and he wasn't surprised.

As they traveled through the seemingly endless hallway, their journey came to an end as they stopped at two massive, red and gold doors.

The two guards at this sides moved to each door, grasping the handle as they pushed it open. Revealing an impressive, equally massive room, clad in shimmering gold, expensive decorations and stunningly beautiful cravings on the walls and ceiling.

Dead in the centre lay a throne with on top of it, the queen resided upon.

"Arthur" Victoria stated, familiarity in her voice. "It's good to see you dear, the news last night makes sure of it" she said calmly.

The guards griped their guns as Arthur stepped closer to the throne and in response, the queen raised her dove white hand.

"Enough, you are dismissed." She stated at the three guards, her words harsh and surprising to them.

After a few moments of silence the guards removed themselves from the room, closing the heavy doors behind them, insuring their privacy.

"Arthur, I'm happy to know that you did your deed in full, but must of it been so... barbaric" the queen began, her voice sounding unsure at the last few words.

At this Arthur's back straightened, making the short man seem taller, more imposing "I assure your majesty, it was all necessary. We couldn't have the young lady still alive could we?" Arthur stated. However, his voice held malice which was not missed by the monarch.

The queen raised her gloved hand as she did with the guards, implying him to leave. Arthur complied.

But just when Arthur grasped the handle of the door, queen raised her voice, her voice echoing though the room "Let this be a murder in which no soul shall act upon again"

Arthur turned his head towards the queen. "Indeed it shall your majesty" he said while bowing. He opened the doors, two guards waiting at each side to escort him from the palace.

———————————————————————————

As he walked across Whitechapel's cobblestone street he couldn't help but glance at some of the women that stood kneeling on the walls of various pubs and houses, wearing revealing dresses even in the cold weather of Britain.

He found himself glancing at each lady as he paced through the street. Critiquing every one his eyes laid upon. Staring that their skin, imagining the blood that was trapped inside. He imagined what their voices sounded like. But instead of them moaning beneath him, he had them pinned down with them screaming for him to stop. His lips curved into a sadistic grin as he turned a corner towards his house.

———————————————————————————

Upon entering his residence, he placed his top hat on the rack beside the front door and made is way to the living room.

As he lit the fire and sat down on the leather chair, tea and saucer in hand, he couldn't help but look at the clothes that hung up on a separate rack in the corner of the room. First his eyes rested on a long, black leather waistcoat which went down to his knees when worn. Next was the quality black woolly turtleneck, ensuring his warmth in the bitterest of winds and finally were his boots, black and leathery which rested at the bottom of the rack.

This is what he worn when he murdered that lady.

It only made sense, wearing this in the dead of night as the streets were coated in smog like a ocean of clouds. It ensured his cover.

As he sniffed he no longer smelt his freshly brewed tea.

All he smelt was the blood. That additive metallic smell.

Wasn't red such a beautiful colour? It could mean so many things... Passion and War. Warmth and Danger. And good god how he loved blood. From it's magnified shade to it's very smell.

Especially it's taste.

He shook himself from his through, placing the now cold tea on the saucer that rested on a small, round table beside his chair and pushed himself off, going toward the rack.

He grabbed the waistcoat and turtleneck and headed towards the bedroom, his mind sent on what he wanted to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter appears! I hope this is okay and I’m sorry for any grammatical errors and the wait for such a short chapter. I’ll try to make them longer in the future. Anyway, stay safe everyone!


	3. Annie Chapman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it all begins to spiral into madness.

-Nobody's POV-

As the busy streets of London fell asleep for the night, Arthur made hast towards Whitechapel.

His attire consisted that of what he worn the previous night: A thick, black turtleneck shirt covered in an equally black, oversized leather treanchcoat, it's collar covering the sides of his face. He also wore a pair of polished boots that nearly went up to his knees and a top hat which was placed neatly atop his messy blond hair.

As Arthur stalked through the alleyways, he noticed that the streets were already beginning to come alive again. Men who snuck out of their houses to spend their money on the pubs and whores who also began to increase in numbers. They prayed upon the young and old, just for a few shillings.

As Arthur entered Whitechapel, he made his way down Hanbury Street. His green eyes darting for any possible opportunities.

That's when his eyes laid upon a women. He quickly analysed her.

A women in her late 40s. She had brown, wavy hair which was cut short to her shoulders, she measured in about 5ft tall, and her deep blue eyes were glazed over. She was intoxicated.

'Perfect' Arthur thought with a grin.

After glancing up and down the street, he calmly made his was towards the woman. His strides long and confident.

"Would you?" Arthur stated, knowing that a whore, even when drunk, would get what he was implying.

The woman turning towards Arthur clumsily, staring him down for a moment until she nodded her head curtly "Sure" she answered, the short answer was slurred and heavy.

Arthur grasped her hand and began to walk into the alleyway behind them, while the woman flinched from the sudden contact, she allowed herself to be lead by the blond.

Once the two were deep in the alleyway, Arthur pinned the woman to the wall, his body starting to twitch with anticipation.

Before the woman could question his behaviour, Arthur shoved a handkerchief over her mouth. The response was instant. She began to panic, her screams muffled and weak but her clawing hands and kicking legs were full of vigour.

A kick to the groin caused Arthur to recoil from the woman, freeing her from his attempted asphyxiation.

"No- No!" She screeched, begged. All the while stumbling away from him.

Arthur recovered before she could escape. He tackled her running form, causing them to both crash into a nearby fence. After a small power struggle, he managed to pin her legs with his knees and arms to her back.

"Must you have made this harder than is should of been?" His voice coming out in a deep snarl.

In response to this the woman was about to let out a scream. That was until he placed the handkerchief over her mouth and nose once more with his free hand.

She began to struggle again but now her legs were immobilised and arms clawing at nothing but her own back.

As the seconds went by, her movements became weaker and sloppy. And after a full minute, she stopped moving entirely.

At this, Arthur removed himself from her back and turned her over so that they were facing one another.

She almost looked asleep. This made Arthur chuckle involuntarily.

He snaked his hand under his trenchcoat, and after a few seconds it reappeared with a sharpened blade.

It wasn't anything special. A simple large kitchen knife, just sharpened that little bit more.

He gently traced the tip of the blade over the woman's neck. Until almost out of nowhere, he violently sliced into her neck. Blood spraying from the wound to his face.

He repeated to saw at her neck until he hit her vertebrae. He blinked, not realising he cut so deep.

He stared down at the now gaping cut, blood quickly escaping from the arteries that were severed.

Arthur's attention when down towards her body until he begun to cut away her dress with his bloodied knife. Her skin was much like Mary's, pale and perfect.

With no hesitation, his landed his blade into her chest and begun to carve down to her abdomen. When he was finished, he removed the blade and placed it gently on the ruined cobblestone beneath them. He grasped either side of his incision with both hands and slowly pulled outwards. Her torso suddenly like a curtain revealing some sort of sick, twisted show.

Arthur knew he could do as he pleases now as no one is there to interrupt him. Not judge him like Victoria did in the palace. At this thought, his face morphed into a scowl.

'If her majesty was disgusted by that... I wonder what she would think of this...' Arthur thought, his eyes trailing down the body beneath him.

He shook himself from his thoughts and reached his hands inside of her. His gloved hands stroking her innards.

Once he reached her intestines, without thinking, he grasped around them and pulled.

After a small amount of effort they came free with a sickening squelch. Blood splatting over his coat.

He placed it beside her, next to his knife which then he grasped.

He then began to carve a chunk of her skin and after he had done, he gently placed it on her shoulder.

Arthur stood up from his position and admired his piece of art. Smiling down at the mutilated corpse.

With his bloodied knife still in hand, he licked it. His eyes rolling briefly back and a shutter ran down his spine.

However, this pleasure was short lived as this eyes trailed to the sky above. Causing him to step back.

"When at it become so late?" He questioned himself quietly. Well, in this case early as he realised it must of been at least 5:00am.

With an annoyed huff, his bloodied form began to retreat from the body. And with a final glance, he left the alleyway.

———————————————————————————

While Arthur's mental state was currently being severely questioned, even by himself, he was no idiot.

A man cloaked in black and covered in blood was not a sight to behold. So he made his way home though the alleyways, his pace quick and as the sun crept over the sky, more panicked.

Eventually, he managed to make his way back to his home without incident. Making sure to remove his red gloves before turning the handle.

While entering his home he was careful not to stain anything with his blood soaked attire. He removed his coat, turtleneck and boots at the door, leaving him in only his black trousers which were only speckled with blood.

He dumped the bloodied mess in the corner of his bathroom (Arthur was fortunate to have one) as he begun to boil water over the stove. All he needed now was a nice hot bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter? In the same week? Impossible.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this turned out okay. I’m open to criticism and stuff so feel free to point anything out. Thank you and stay safe!


End file.
